


A Rogue's Story

by Feithline



Series: A Rogue's Tale [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: World of Warcraft - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feithline/pseuds/Feithline
Summary: These are stories set in World of Warcraft in the current canon timeline.  There are pieces I have added to the world but they are minor and unimportant to timeline events.  The main characters and some of the side ones are my own characters I have played in the world since World of Warcraft release.  Other character names have been changed as they are not mine and I do not have permission to use them.  There are some NPC characters that I have made up for these stories.  These stories have evolved out of life in game and some out.  I have spun, in my head and on paper, a history for two 'toons' I have played for years on World of Warcraft.  I wrote in the canon that is and not changed the time line of the game but the experiences are my own.These chapters will follow my main long time played Night Elf Rogue Feithline Whiteoak.  Some chapters will include here sister, also a character of mine.
Series: A Rogue's Tale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941301





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are stories set in World of Warcraft in the current canon timeline. There are pieces I have added to the world but they are minor and unimportant to timeline events. The main characters and some of the side ones are my own characters I have played in the world since World of Warcraft release. Other character names have been changed as they are not mine and I do not have permission to use them. These stories have evolved out of life in-game and some out.

Prologe

Her boots sunk a bit in the loose ash covering everything. Around her only charred skeletons of buildings, trees and other structures of the once grand capitol spoke of what had happened. Taking slow steps toward what had once been the home of the Cenarion Circle and the rogue hall the silence wrapped around her. Her feet slid a bit on the slope up to the open circle surrounded by what had been tree-buildings she ended up having to take a knee to keep from falling. Catching her breath before getting to her feet she looked down into the empty eyes of a skull peeking through the ash between her hands. Closing her eyes she quietly spoke a prayer to Elune and got to her feet. Stepping a bit more cautiously she left a small green flag near the skull. The druids would be along and collect the bones and lay them to rest, with so many others.  
She moved toward a skeletal tree on the west side of the circle. The steps of roots and stone were muffled with ash but there. Treading carefully she reached the top and placed another flag. A younger man came up in her footsteps and stopped a step or two down from her. His mask was damp from sweat and tears, so many tears.  
‘It looks like the stairs down are still intact’ her voice was little more than a whisper. She led the way through what had once been a doorway and now was the broken arch and trunk of a large tree. Steps led down and ash only piled in the corners of the steps. On the first landing were two doors that were charred but intact, pushing the one to her right she found the door swung soundlessly open.  
So many flashes of memories and scenes went through her head as the door slowly revealed a room. This had been the chamber for the Mistress or Master of Shadows, leader of the rogues of the Night Elf people. It had once been hers but most recently it belonged to the younger man behind her. He laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. ‘May I . . . may I have a moment before you . . . ‘  
He did not need to finish, she nodded and stepped aside to let him past her. The door on the other side of the landing she knew was the armory. Trying the door she found it still locked and left it to check later. She stepped down the stairs that were free of ash but littered with burnt bits of wood and random items dropped from people leaving in haste. The stairs opened into what had been a common area for the rogues and trainees. The room was dim so she pulled a torch from the ring on the wall and struck a lite stone to set the torch alight. As the light touched the tables and walls she let out a muffled cry. She turned her back to the room and took a few steps back up the stairs and dropped to her knees. The torch hissed in the silence.  
‘Feith? Are you alright?’ The voice brought her spinning head back to center and she looked up at the young man.  
‘No, no I am not, but I will have to be for now.’ She took the hand offered and got to her feet. The young man moved to go down the stairs and she stopped him. ‘It’s a tomb now, let them be.’  
His gold eyes met her grey gaze and nodded, sighing heavily. ‘There is some to salvage in my chambers. Some of the rogue craft library and most of the biography records. Some artifacts and such . . . ‘ his voice trailed off as they both felt the spirits around them. Small sparks of light that flitted and bobbed around them, so many. Most in the Alliance called them wisps but Night Elves knew them as spirits of their ancestors. They only took this particular form when they had died suddenly, violently or catastrophically.  
Feithline held out her hands and spoke in her native tongue ‘Elune adore, ande’thoras-ethil’. The wisps swarmed around her for a moment, the peculiar chiming and singing became louder and then slowly, along with their light, faded.  
Nydri pulled the mask from his face and blotted the tears. ‘I did not think anyone would have survived but so many dead . . . ‘ He stood his hands out as if he were holding a huge bundle.  
She nodded and spoke quietly, ‘lets gather what we can. I will let the druids know they are here.’ The two went back up to the chambers of shadow and gathered tombs, folios and artifacts belonging to the rogue hall. After a few hours work they re-emerged from the hall and the druids were in the circle working on collecting remains. Feithline went down the steps and toward and druid and laid a hand on her back and the druid turned toward the rogue. The rogue gestured toward the tree she had just come from and spoke quietly. The druid nodded and turned to speak more with the rogue. The druid pulled off her mask and rubbed her face. The druid and rogue looked like moonlight and sunlight images of the same woman. Sisters, Nydri knew, Feithline the rogue and Rhonabwy the druid. Nydri knew the rogue as teacher and mentor; she had been the Mistress of Shadow when he came to the rogue hall. She imparted all of her experiences, good and bad, as a rogue to prepare her students. He was impressed with her honesty and that she truly cared for her students. She had told him several times that her students would grow to be her colleagues and she wanted them to have as much knowledge as possible, which made perfect sense. The druid sister had been kind to him. Nydri was far from home and Rhonabwy had always made him welcome at her table. Watching the two now he could see and feel they were both in shock of the ruins around them. They had lived their lives here in Darnasus. Feithline had risen to train the rogues and Rhonabwy had been a skilled healer and teacher of the healing arts. Both had given a lot in service to their people. Feithline had been at the ritual of Elune’s Claws and her eyes blackened to new moon light. Rhonabwy had been at the front line camps healing even though she has heavy with child. They now stood; ankle deep in ash, surrounded by what had been a grand, beautiful capitol of the Night Elf people, now a pyre set a blaze by Sylvanias Windrunner.  
A gentle horn sounded from the other side of the ruins, the call to return to the ships below. Search groups headed back toward the portal down to the docks of Ruth’arn. Many carried bundles of items saved from the ruins. Druids were stacking baskets near what had been the central vault area, bones to be laid to rest properly. Rhonabwy handed her sister a bundle ‘I am staying tonight.’ The rogue nodded and took the bundle from her sister. Some druids would stay to watch over the dead and offer comfort to the spirits.  
The ship over to Darkshore was silent. The camps on the shore were also quiet. The people here to recover what they could were in shock and pain. Not just Night Elves had come to help. Humans, Dwarves, even Nightborne Elves had come. Some Tauren had also come up from Mulegore. All went about evening chores quietly. Some stopped and looked out over the water at the haunting skeleton of the World Tree, all felt the deep loss.  
Nydri was shuffling through the folios they pulled and sorting things into crates to be moved to Hiyjal or Feathermoon. He was the current Master of Shadows and he wanted to salvage as much history of the rogues and Night Elf people as possible. He realized as he packed up folios of biographies he did not have one from the previous Mistress, Feithline. He looked over to were she was sorting and packing up rogue craft books and spoke quietly ‘I do not have your story.’  
Her hands slowed in their wiping ash from and then packing books, ‘what do you mean?’ she did not meet his gaze.  
He picked up two folios and moved to take knee next to her. Opening one folio she could see it was Amaya’s, her teacher and mentor. The next was Nydri’s; she had been his teacher and mentor. His hand gestured to the space between the two ‘there should be another one here, yours.’  
She sighed and nodded, she had been avoiding this project. ‘Right now we have . . .’  
He did not let her finish, ‘we have what? Piles of ash and charred trees where a great city had been, bones of innocents, a people diminished. How many will not be known because there was no record? The biography folios were your and Amaya’s idea but you are not here.’ Nydri stood and looked down at the top of her head ‘Shadow Mistress Feithline, you will provide me with your biography information within the week.’ He did not like pulling rank but he was technically her superior.  
She stood and met his fierce gaze with the same fierceness. They stared for a few moments and she softened and nodded, ‘of course Master Nydri, you are right, I can not ask of others what I will not give myself.’ She laid a hand on his arm and met his eyes ‘you are right. Do you need any more help with all of this?’  
‘Feithline, I know it is hard. I know you like to leave things where they lay. We are a diminished people, our history will be important. Start with the big but as you asked of me, fill in everything as you can.’ As he spoke he handed her a leather folio with her name on it that was, as of now, empty.  
The next morning Feithline was on her way to Feathermoon with crates or books, papers, and artifacts saved from Darnasus. She was going back to sort through all of the texts and such and work on her biography. 

The Beginning

Exhausted, tears and sweat on her face she gripped the grass under her hands. Her whole body shook with the effort of trying.  
‘Get up, try again’ the old druid looked down at her.  
She pushed off the ground and rested back on her knees, she did not look at him but slowly got to her feet. Once again she held the image of a cat in her mind and tried to slip into that form, to shift her body. This time she felt nothing. Her body, mind and spirit were exhausted and she just dropped to her knees again.  
The old druid sat down in front of her and handed her a water skin. He did not speak for a time and let her rest. He had taken this young novate aside to try and help her learn how to shift forms as she had been struggling with the skill. All druids could shift to several forms but this young one could not even big up the necessary power to attempt to shift. It had been about a month of this extra work and the older druid was mulling over the possibility that this young woman was not a druid.  
‘I am going to speak with the Arch Druid child. You fight fiercely but I do not think Elune has laid the druid skills in you.’ As he spoke he brushed moon colored hair from the young woman’s face. ‘There is not shame. We all have a path, I do not think yours is the same as your sister’s.’  
‘I do try. I do not know what else to do.’ She met his eyes and he saw defeat but a fire burned, that could be worked with. She drank and shifted to sitting cross-legged before him.  
‘Perhaps the warriors or rogues could use that fire I see burning. I will speak with the Arch Druid.’ He pulled out a small bundle and laid it between them. Inside were some oatcakes and cheese. They sat in the quiet clearing and ate, after a time the talked quietly about what she would like to do. The idea of moving to the rogues or warriors sat well enough with her but she was unsure what her sister would think. The afternoon was wearing on so they gathered their things to head back to the enclave.  
As the two came up the hill to the enclave there was a crowd in the open area between the trees that served as buildings. People parted for the old druid and young woman as they moved up the hill. They came to a stop behind two hunters who were talking quietly. The young woman knew one of the hunters, Ravenwing, but she did not know the lady hunter next to him.  
‘Vile creatures! How do they keep getting up here?’ the lady hunter spoke with a look of disgust on her face.  
Ravenwing sighed and shook his head ‘I do not know but we need to find out.’ The young woman looked between the two at three creatures on their knees before the Arch Druid and High Priestess Tyranda.  
‘What are they?’ the young woman half spoke to herself.  
Ravenwing looked down at the young woman and laid a hand on her shoulder letting her get a better view. ‘Trolls. They come up from the south. It is said they are also kin to the Highborne but became corrupt.’

Amaya Shadowing came up from the rogue hall to see what all the fuss was about. She had been looking over reports when she heard the young rogue students whisper and shuffling up the stairs. It should be the evening meal and then clean up, what were they going up to the clearing for. Feithline knew what trolls were. Hear the word pulled at a memory.

The morning was cool and crisp when the old healer woke the girls. Deera was a mentor to the girls mother Kira Whiteoak, and both were gifted healers. Deera had planned to take the two girls, Rhonabwy and Feithline, out with her to hunt herbs. Rhonabwy was proving to be a gifted herbalist and was picking up healing quickly. Feithline was a gentle hand and did not bruise herbs like many students did though her skill with a little herbal knife was a bit frightening. She woke the girls and fed them some warm tea and porridge; she also filled a flask with tea and packed some food for their lunch. The girls enjoyed being out with Deera. She taught them about the animals and plants around them and how to use them. She made little candies and gave them to the girls even if Kira scolded her for doing it. Deera was taking the girls to give Kira a little break. She and Reelan had recently had a son and the three children wore Kira out. The little boy would sleep mostly and so could Kira. Today that had planned to hunt herbs in the woods around the city and then go down to Ruth‘ran and fish for firefin and oilskin. Deera had also promised to look in on a couple of hippogriffs  
The shadows were growing long when the three were coming back through the city. A group of guard rode past them in a hurry and one turned and spoke with Deera. When she turned back to the girls she was pale and trembling. She hurried the girls toward the Cenarion Enclave and left them in the care of a novice.  
Three days later the pyres where burned. Kira lay next to Reelan with their infant son cradled between them. The girls were given into the care of the Enclave with Deera as their guardian.

Before anyone could react or move Feithline had pulled a knife from Ravenwing’s belt and moved toward the trolls. Without a word one troll was stabbed through the neck and fell gurgling on the ground. A turn and the next had the knife buried hilt deep in his chest, eyes wide staring at the young woman who just took his life. Effortlessly that woman pulled the knife from his chest, spun and the blade sunk into the back of the third troll. She dropped to her knees gripping the ground under her hands.  
Amaya got to the steps as the young woman buried her knife in the first troll. She watched the grace and single-minded focus of this young woman and was impressed and confused. Who was she and why the hell was she not among her students?! The young woman finished the last troll and dropped to her knees. Amaya knew where she was mentally. She had been there many times herself. In her mind she was running through the rush of having lived, having defeated an enemy and come out the other side of battle. She could see the young woman was out of breath, not from fear or effort but exhilaration of having lived.  
Amaya took the steps down slowly and the rogue students parted and bowed as she passed. She closed the space between the young woman and herself, stopping before her and holding out her hand. ‘Give me the knife.’  
Feithline, without looking up, reached over and pulled the knife from the trolls back and handed, hilt first, to the woman. As Amaya took the blade Feithline let the blade cut her palm. The sharp cold pain brought her back to now and what she had done.  
‘Your name’ Amaya spoke with a quiet force that Feithline instantly respected.  
‘Feithline Whiteoak Mistress.’ A small shudder went through her and she could feel the eyes on her.  
‘Why has this young woman not been brought to me? She is a rogue. That should have been obvious to anyone.’ Amaya scanned the crowd around the clearing. Another young woman stepped forward, a druid novate from her dress.  
‘Mistress of Shadow she is my younger sister. She has been training as a druid with me.’ The novate druid stood opposite the Mistress of Shadow with Feithline between them. Amaya nodded and looked down at Feithline.  
‘Stand.’ Amaya looked Feithline in the eyes. Such fire there but it needed an outlet, badly. The druids might be a fit but Amaya had trained hundreds of rogues and only seen this kind of potential in few. ‘Do you want to be a druid?’ her voice was soft but commanding.  
Feithline looked back over her shoulder at her sister and then met Amaya’s gaze ‘No mistress, I do not have the skills but wished to please my sister.’  
Rhonabwy closed her eyes as a pain gripped her chest. She loved her sister and wanted to keep her safe but had known for some time now that she was not a druid. The pain was Rhonabwy realizing, being afraid and proud all at the same time. When she opened her eyes she met Amaya’s. Letting her breath out she nodded at the Mistress.  
‘Get your things from the druid grove and report to me in the rogue hall.’ The mistress looked at Tyranda and Arch druid ‘I am taking her for the rogues. Talent like that is a waste with the druids.’ Tyranda nodded and motioned for sentinels to remove the bodies.

It had been 6 years since Feithline had entered the rogue hall as a student. She stood in the study of the Mistress of Shadow waiting for Amaya to finish what she was reading. She had been summoned after the evening meal; to what purpose she was unsure. Amaya finished and sat back looking up at her student.  
‘Are you recovered from your wounds?’ as she asked Amaya looked to Feithline’s arm now out of it’s sling and belly. She had been impaled on a trolls spear and it was a wonder she lived let alone recovered.  
‘Yes Mistress, I have been released from the druids care to resume training.’ She ran a hand up her arm as she spoke.  
‘You have no more training. I am granting you a place in the scouting troops. Here is your first assignment, you will report to the sentinel captain in the morning for Darkshore patrols.’ Amaya came around her desk to the young rogue and offered her a seat by the fire. Amaya poured them both a glass of Darnasian plum wine and sat down. ‘I have a small token for you. One is your badge of office so to speak the other I think you will remember from when we first met.’ Amaya handed her a small pin that was the crest of Darnasus with a bandit type mask over it and a leather wrapped object.  
Feithline pinned the badge to her shirt inside her jerkin patting it gently. Then she unwrapped the leather to find a knife. She knew this knife even though she had not seen it in years. It was the knife she had taken and dispatched the troll raiders. Swallowing hard her fingers stroked the hilt. It was a blade meant for hunting and dispatching animals, not at all the daggers she had learned to use over the years.  
‘I thought you should have a touchstone, a reminder of where you began. You impressed me then and have continued to impress me. Perhaps someday you could be Mistress here.’ Feithline looked up in shock at the words. Amaya chuckled ‘It won’t be for some time but I see great potential and resilience in you. Even your sister is proud even though you did not follow the path she did. Speaking of which you have a ceremony to attend if I am not mistaken, your sister’s initiation into the Cenarion Circle.’  
Feithline had no words and simply stood and saluted The Mistress and headed out to the grove to see her sister’s induction.


	2. Chapter II:  Finding a Place

Finding a Place

A Rogue

Her saber cat padded up the bridge into the gates of Stormwind. She was trying to not to look as out of place as she felt. Stormwind was the capital of the Alliance, an ancient city, built and rebuilt over the centuries. It was not the oldest human city but it was the oldest that survived. She was here to see about finding a guild. After 30 yrs. serving in the scouts she had been released from obligations from her training. She wanted to see more of the Alliance and learn more; the best way to do both was to join an adventurer’s guild.   
Entering the trade district her senses were bombarded with colors, sounds and delightful scents from the shops and market stalls. In the central square, she spotted a large board with various wanted posters, guild recruitment postings and news of the realm. Dismounting and stepping up to the board she started reading guild postings. There were so many and the postings were short. It looked like they all had halls in Old Town, probably easier to head over and talk to some folks. She was also told if she wanted to work with the Alliance forces she would need to present herself to Mathias Shaw at SI:7 also in Old Town. Navigating the canals and bridges she found Old Town, her first stop was SI:7.  
Walking up the steps to the SI:7 she noticed a man watching her from the benches near the wall. Human, daggers so probably a rogue, swarthy completion either from sun or ancestry, and he was defiantly watching her. She nodded to acknowledge and he nodded back, so he did not mind she noticed. Continuing on her way up the steps she would worry about the man later. A gnome met her in the common room and asked her business.  
‘I was told rogues wishing to work with the Alliance tro . . . ‘ the gnome did not let her finish. A large book flopped up on a table and the gnome pointed over to where an older man was sitting with a book in front of him. She nodded and joined the man at the table. She sat across from him the book between them, facing her. The book was names, next to the names were family contact information and identifying marks for the person named. Picking up a quill she added her name and information and then met the man’s gaze.  
‘Mathias Shaw I presume.’ she held his gaze for moments and he finally nodded smiling slightly. She had caught his attention when she came in, Night Elf rogues were skilled agile rogues but also in recent years been fiercely loyal to their Mistress Amaya. Shaw was always surprised to have them here.  
He did not answer her statement but went on as if she had said nothing ‘I do not often get rogues of your people here. I would like to see what you are made of, just to know your strengths.’ He stood and was moving toward a set of open double doors leading out into a training yard, she followed.  
In the yard, Shaw sent a squire off on an errand and cleared some rogues from the fighting area. He motioned her to the rack of practice weapons. The weapons were all wood in the shape of daggers and swords. It was too easy to hurt each other learning so replica weapons were nothing new to her. She took two daggers, her preferred style of fighting, returning to the fight area she bowed to Shaw ready to begin.  
‘Not with me, I need to watch. You will spar with one of my best Horde killers, Jaromir.’ The man who had been watching her when she came in stepped up beside Shaw, bowed to his master, and then turned and bowed to her, a sly smile laying on his lips.  
‘Rules of engagement?’ the two men looked at each other and Jaromir answered.  
‘None, the Horde fights to kill, so should we.’ He took a sword and dagger from the squire who offered.  
A smile to herself, sword and dagger were something she was very familiar with countering. Taking a moment she took a deep breath, looked up and met Jerome’s eyes, and vanished, the fight was on.  
Mathais Shaw stepped to the wall to watch. Jaromir was one of his elite best, a fierce fighter and master at deception and surprise. Shaw needed more like him and this Night Elf had an air about her that might be what he was looking for, so who better to test her.  
Jaromir dropped into a crouch waiting for the usual attempt at a rear attack. There was no sound except the thump on his leather armor as she struck a blow on his sword side, right to the kidney. Flipping the sword around he swung at the space she should be in to strike such a blow but hit nothing. The next moment he was on his back and she had her knees on his wrists smiling down at him. She only held him for a moment and then was gone from feeling and sight in a second. Flustered Jaromir got to his feet and composed himself, looking around for any sign of her. There! With a crunch of the dirt and stone of the arena, he swung and ticked against a blade of her dagger. He found her now what? He brought his dagger against the sword to trap her blade but not fast enough and she got another quick tap on his wrist. He sighed and met Shaw’s look from the sidelines. The look that passed between them was one of both being in awe of the skill here. Without moving more than his sword arm he swung out and made contact with and knocked the dagger from her hand. Expecting her to move for it his eyes followed to path it as it slid in the dust. What he did not expect was a dagger pressed to his throat. He heard a slow clap from the sidelines and then Shaw’s laugh.   
‘Do not assume anything of your enemy’ her voice was a whisper against his ear. Her breath on his ear, her body pressed against his back and her smell, leather amber and sweat overwhelmed him and he did not hear Shaw at first.  
‘I said did she kill Jar? Or just distract you’ there was no malice just some friendly ribbing in his tone.  
Jaromir came back to his senses and realized she stood before him. ‘Good fight. Who are you?’  
‘Feithline Whiteoak, I have come to join on with a guild and work with the Alliance forces.’ She took his hand and shook. She was not cocky or presenting as a bragger, he had a good feeling about her.  
‘Both of you come in and get some refreshment. Feithline is it? I think you are one of what I have been looking for.’ The three went back into the rogue barracks to talk and get Feithline her credentials for working with official Alliance troops.

A Guild

Feithline was sitting on the grass near the moonwell of the park district. Finding a good match for her and a guild was proving a challenge. Many were wanting more experience or members gave up a lot of the take in bounties and such. She was sitting resting in the shade and eating. The moonwell was a gathering point for Night Elves visiting or living in Stormwind and hearing her native tongue made her feel more at ease. A druid woman flopped on the grass beside Feithline and took a few grapes from the bowl sitting beside the rogue ‘Elune adore.’  
‘Elune adore’ Feithline answered. She handed the druid a flask of water. Moonwells were places to rest, share, and find comfort. Night Elf people thought nothing of sharing food and drink with fellows around the well.  
‘You look frustrated friend. Anything I can do to help?’ the druid had rolled on her back in the grass.  
‘Just been trying to find a guild to get out and hone my skills with but not finding a good match.’ Feithline leaned back against the cool stone of the well. The weather in Stormwind was much more varied than Darnasus. Right now it was a hot season and it was sweltering at times. The cool stone felt wonderful.   
‘Can you put up with an arrogant rogue and foppish paladin as leaders?’ the druid asked without moving from the cool grass.  
Feithline looked at her unsure how or what to say. ‘I suppose I could if they were not looking for elite skills or stealing most of the take from bounties.’  
In one movement the druid hopped to her feet and took the rogues hand. ‘Come with me then, lets get you in the colors.’ The druid led her to a guild house facing the canals, the sign out front was a circle of swords tips facing in, hence the name of the guild Circle of Swords. The druid led her into the hall and dropped into a chair at a table with a blond woman in plate, a Night Elf rogue with deep green hair, and an older man with coppery hair and green eyes. Feithline followed but did not sit till the druid kicked out a chair for her.  
‘Found this one by the moonwell, she has already been to see Mathias so she has papers to work. Her name is . . . dang it, I never asked did I?’ The druid turned to Feithline ‘the name is DarkStar. This is Valkyia, the blond woman, Mara, the green-haired rogue, and Thorin, the older gentleman. How about you?’  
Feithline shook each hand offered ‘Feithline, I am recently released from Darnasus scouting and am here to hone my skills .’  
Mara snorted ‘Amaya’s handwork no doubt, there are defiantly things we can teach you. So what is your specialty?’  
‘Assassination, and scouting, though I am versed in all forms of rogue combat.’ Feithline was not sure how to take the attitude.  
Valkyria had gotten up and gone to a room off the great hall and returned with a book. She laid it in front of Feithline, this was similar to the book Shaw kept but a little less on identifying marks. Feithline signed the book and Valkyria handed her a tabard ‘Welcome to the circle’ and she fluttered off with the book Mara following her.  
Feithline was left at the table with DarkStar and Thorin, and the three fell into conversation about guild politics and Alliance troop tactics.  
Thorin was a veteran of service in the Alliance army. He still served as reserve but mostly spent his time as the warlord for this guild. He was hard to read, nothing seemed to ruffle him. Feithline felt a deep, immediate respect for him, he had the aura of a leader and good person, and she found it comforting.  
DarkStar was a druid of many talents. She had mastered most forms and was comfortable in any roll she filled. She was a firebrand and lively. Feithline liked her and her frank ways. DarkStar settled Feithline in the barracks for the guild. It was a little better than the rogue hall and she would be closer to the group of people with whom she would be working.

Over the next year, Feithline worked with Jaromir at SI:7 and sometimes Mara. Training sessions with Mara tended to be rants about Amaya and her finding fault in everything. Jaromir though taught her a lot. He took her with to the hot spots with Horde clashes. The two worked well together and she learned a lot from him about tracking Horde movements, tactics and who were easy targets. The two became fast friends. On occasion, a warrior friend of Jaromir would show up and want rogues services for an exploration. Jaromir took Feithline with him when he went. He told his friend, Vitale that Feithline was a student of sorts and he was teaching her. Vitale would shrug and say ‘if she dies it is your problem’. After months of this, the three were pretty regular companions. Jaromir was not one for clearing out ancient ruins so he did not partake in that work so Feithline learned from Vitale how to back up a ‘tank’ for expedition groups.   
When Circle of Swords did go on expedition Feithline was paired with Thorin and Mara preferred Vitale as the tank she backed because he was more reckless, as was she. Feithline and Thorin worked well together and she even taught him a little of the rogue's sign language. When they got ready to fight she would tap the back of his plate gently to say ‘ I am here and ready’. Later in life Thorin would tell her it was a comfort at times to know who had his back.  
Evenings in the guildhall let members socialize and get to know each other. The guild had been growing recently and the older members had many new faces to learn. Feithline did her best to remember names and faces, it was exciting to meet so many different people.  
Thorin was the guild warlord. He was responsible for planning, tactics, and who went on the expeditions. He was a quiet man in his late 30’s, veteran of Alliance service and really the leader of this guild, though not in title. He was the kind of man people just follow, he was a quiet core to this group.  
Zenia was a priestess, human, and not like the priestesses Feithline was used to from home. She was a priestess of the Light, like Paladins she followed the bright light of faith. She was very dedicated to Thorin though there did not seem to be anything romantic there.  
Nythandon, a Night Elf hunter of Feathermoon. He was skilled in archery and helped anyone who asked for training with the bow. His pets were his children and there were always a few around the guildhall. Feithline also found out he had the Worgen curse. Most thought only the isolated city of Gillneaus had been cursed with the Worgen but there were others who came to the curse through bites and such. Nythandon did not make a show of his curse but it was not a secret here.  
Vitale was another warrior in the guild. Arrogant, lusty, and loud he was always ready for battle and glory. Still, in his 20’s he was full of piss and vinegar but was a seriously skilled warrior. He was childhood friends with Jaromir and the two were often together with another druid, Maethea.   
Jaromir was here because Vital was, and he spent most of his time on the front lines fighting Horde. Jar, as Feithline came to call him, was a bit more jaded by life. He had a wife and she left when he was gone to long on a mission. He did not talk about it and seemed to have no use for romantic entanglements.  
Maethea was a bear druid. She could, as all druids, assume all forms but her skill was in the feral cat and bear forms. She was a Night Elf but had lived in the Eastern Kingdom most of her life. She was a private woman and did not seem to be keen on getting to know the new Night Elf rogue hanging around Jar and Vitale.  
So many other faces but these were ones Feithline immediately committed to memory. They seemed to be some of the leaders or influential people here.   
There were arcane magic users, which Feithline was not comfortable around. The Night Elf people knew the dangers of arcane magic. Azshara had destroyed herself with the search for more and more arcane power, and there were rumors of a city that had sealed itself away from the world using arcane magic. They were powerful forces and, from what Feithline understood, unpredictable, and corrupt. Generally, all worked well together, but there always seemed to be some underlying tensions. It was a challenge to gain a level of comfort with the arcane arts and its practitioners. Most arcane users in the guild were aware of the mistrust and worked to educate and explain their arts. Feithline was willing to learn but still kept a built-in wariness and suspicion.


End file.
